


despite the weltering earth and malevolent alps

by laukyra



Category: Alex Rider (TV 2020), Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Alex Rider is So Done, Angst, Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Spyfest 2020 (Alex Rider), laukyra, post point blanc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26697553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laukyra/pseuds/laukyra
Summary: after leaving the safe house, Kyra has no where to go. who would she turn to?filler of Kyra's pov from escaping point blanc to after escaping the safe house. slight angst to fluff and comfort.fic dedicated to sneka.
Relationships: Alex Rider & Kyra Vashenko-Chao, Alex Rider & point blanc kids, Kyra Vashenko-Chao & Laura, Kyra Vashenko-Chao/Laura
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	despite the weltering earth and malevolent alps

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Glittering Mist](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26359015) by [Aurum18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurum18/pseuds/Aurum18). 



> laukyra supremacy!! sapphics!!

playlist:  
01] war of heart -ruelle  
02] better love -hozier  
03] 21 -gracie abrams

  
KYRA VASHENKO CHAO was screwed.

More screwed than she has ever been. She drummed her finger against the hard cold wooden bench in the park, the other hand gripping her overcoat just a bit too tightly her knuckles turned white.

It calmed her down, gripping onto something. For her whole life she has been alone, but now she was more alone than she would ever be. Gripping tightly onto things was the only way she could feel the slightest of comfort, _like a warm tight embrace, tight enough that air was squeezed out of her lungs, but soft enough she could imagine the calloused fingers running through her hair, whispering reassurances._

Her heart sank knowing she would probably never be experiencing these feelings again, the _warmth_ , the _comfort_ , and the _euphoria of people understanding her without judgement._ It was a sheer weight pressed against her heart, and she was afraid that, one day, the whole thing would crack under the incrementing force. For she, was a sixteen years old alone in this world.

And the world is ruthless and unforgiving.

Only 7 hours ago, she broke out of the living nightmare that was Point Blanc. Only 2 hours ago, she was informed by two faceless, impassive agents that her parents had been murdered. Only an hour ago, she decamped from the safe house mi6 has so kindly provided for her. And now Kyra has nowhere to go, no friends to call, no home to return, no food, no money. She was utterly alone in this cruel world, and she did not know what to do.

Kyra never had a plan for her life, but she was certain it did not involve living in the streets with the utter lack of resources. She rubbed her eyes wearily, eyelids drooping ever so slightly in fatigue.

She was exhausted. Drained. But She had made it this far, and she sure as hell was not giving up just yet.

_8.5 hours ago_

Kyra leaned backward in the dark closet she was curled up in, swallowing hard. She squeezed her eyes tight, dragging a hand across her face. She has been confident in Alex, but now what little hope she had had been extinguished. Alex is dead, she heard it loud and clear in the comms, now all that’s left were the echoes of crackling from the radio, and an aching, numb heart. 

She unwillingly dragged herself to the sink across her. The grimy sink was dripping with ice-cold water. A strong fluorescent tube lit up the whole basement. She splashed water on her face. It felt replenishing and of invigorating freshness, but her body protested against the gelidness.

She glanced at the tarnished mirror displayed in front of her. The ever-enlarging bags under her eyes were visible under the harsh light, her greasy bangs matted to the side of her head, but her own face still stared back. Her eyes were a warm shade of brown, like jars of warm dark honey under the sun. It stood out against her pale skin, accented by her perfectly shaped eyebrows that complimented her sharp features.

She wondered how her friends were. Alex had told her they’ve been imprisoned in a secure cage below the labs. Saying she was worried for them would be an understatement. She gripped onto the hem of her yellow jacket, writhing in anxiety.   
  
She was especially concerned for Laura. Despite mainly keeping to herself in the academy, Laura has tried to reach out to her, repeatedly. And through Laura’s occasion witty remarks, Kyra could easily tell Laura has been paying a lot of attention to her. 

_“I think she prefers machines to people”_ It was a petty comment, but no one has seen her as a computer prodigy, only an illicit hacker who unlawfully hacked into the Tokyo stock. She would not have given two fucks if this comment came from another person, but it was Laura who said that, and it made her heart flutter with serotonin. 

Kyra has the key to the cells. Alex has skillfully stolen it from Stellenbosch’s office ( _“Nicked it from her office drawer, I replaced it with a dummy toilet key, it will be days before she notices,”_ ), But now, Kyra would admit, it would be unavailing. Even if Kyra has somehow managed to get them out, what’s next? Sure she could take them out for a little stroll around the floor, or help themselves to the food in the dining hall, but that would be it. With the guards on extra high alert, any attempts to escape would be fertile. Unless they have a plan.

_Unless they have a plan._

Has Alex left any instructions about what to do if all else fails? Frantically, Kyra checked her radio. A static crackle pierced through the eerie silence of the cold basement. She switched through a few channels.

_...over the ridge, okay? Be Ready._

  
Kyra starred forward hollowly, then let out a shaky laugh and looked up. The sounds were slightly distorted but it was clear to who the owner of the voice was.  
  
_Hey. It’s me. I’ve got calvary saddling up their horses. First light we come over the ridge, okay? Be Ready._

Storms of emotion flooded over her. She could feel them deeply in her chest, strangling and tangled: _relief, eleutheromania, anger, hope and euphoria_ , all fighting to surface. Her hands were trembling slightly but she could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins and the loud beating behind her ears. Everything was quiet around her.

_Be ready._

 _“The labs you found me in, turn right at the second door, past the conical flasks and there’s a cage, everyone is in there. Get them out before my cavalry arrives, and meet me at this room.”_ Alex has hurriedly told her before he went off. 

She clenched her fists tight. Rushing up two flights of stairs, she punched in the key code to the labs that she entered no longer than five hours ago. 

The door was unlocked with a familiar click. 

Her heart pounding, she pushed her way inside carefully. The corridor was lit up with daunting red lights, strips of harsh fluorescent lights reflected off metal walls.

She listened to her surroundings.

Small whimpering voices echoed throughout the hallways. She winced inwardly, wondering how she missed the obvious voices the first time. 

She advanced stealthily towards the direction of the cells, eyes darting around. 

Suddenly, there was a crash and Kyra whirled around. The crash was followed by loud metal clanking voices and a string of gasps. Steeling herself, She ran towards the source of noise, holding her breath as she rounded the corner. 

“Laura!”

Laura was standing behind the metal cage, hands gripping the steel weldmesh desperately. Her murky brown eyes were swollen and stung with tears. 

“Kyra?”

Her voice cracked as she uttered the first syllable of her name. The way she said her name, it was soft, hesitant, like a whisper. It was heartbreaking, the tentativeness in her voice. Laura shut her eyes briefly in relief.

“Kyra I thought you were---” She paused herself abruptly, breathing in deeply, ”When i overheard the guards saying they stopped searching for you, I--”

Kyra hushed her with a gentle tap on her outreached arm. 

“I’m alive,” She hissed “And so is Alex, he has a rescue team arriving, I need to get all of you out of here before they arrive,”

She inserted the key hurriedly and twisted the lock, freeing the occupants. They look worse than wear, with bags large enough to hang clothes and wounds of different sizes and severity. 

Kyra felt her blood boil. Whoever did this, they sure have to pay for the price.

Clenching her fingers, she signaled them to follow her.

⚢

The group has been huddling together on the laundry floor. They’ve been silent, for most, except for the occasional murmurs of solace and muffled sniffing. Kyra has been sitting in front of the group, and despite the brave facade she put up, she was scared shitless. Her lungs burn from holding in her breath.

It wasn’t until a couple more minutes later they could hear the raucous shooting sound of guns echoing within Point Blanc. It rang bitterly in their ears, followed sharply by sounds of grunting and glass breaking and wrenched shoutings. 

  
The group huddled closer, shielding each other from the chaos that was happening around them. Kyra bit her lips hard enough there was a strange metallic taste in her mouth.

The noises drowned out for a brief second. She could hear blood pounding loudly behind her ears and her face getting hotter by second.

Then an ear-splitting boom.

Kyra flinched violently as the explosion took place below them. James beside her let out a shriek as the group squirmed closer together.

The explosion was sudden and alarming. Laura shut her eyes tight against reality, whimpering. 

The group was hushed immediately when faint, soft noises of combat boots pressing against the floor got more evident. 

Someone was approaching the room.  
  
They were on high alert immediately, Pressing their back way far to the wall they nearly merged together. Air seemed to be suspended in the room momentarily. 

A woman in white camouflage walked in, gun pointing at them at point blank. She has dirty blond hair that was pulled all the way back to a neat bun, and piercing green eyes that rivaled Stellenbotch’s, though her soft features made her a kind-looking person.

Kyra was positive she has never seen her in Point Blanc. But she could never be sure.

Sitting on the ground would no longer be advantageous. She rose to her feat, fist clenching in defence. The woman’s eyes scanned the room, then locked with hers.  
  
“Kyra,” She has a warm voice that exuded confidence.

The woman lowered her handgun. Kyra relaxed her stance vaguely.

“Alex says hello,” She continued, “I’m SAS, follow me.” 

The group tentatively propelled themselves upward one by one, tension ebbing away. Kyra let out the breath she didn’t even realise she was holding. She was shaking, but she was alive. 

_“Alex says hello”. Alex. The explosion_. A string of thoughts hit Kyra like a train. Instantly a sense of hollowness bubbled up her chest as she started gripping onto her trousers and biting her lips to calm her racing thoughts.

An onslaught of questions formed in her mind but the only audible noise that came from her mouth was “Alex---”

“---is alive,” The woman replied without missing a beat,”He was in the explosion but he’s alive and well.”  
  
Kyra allowed herself to smile in as the group trudged through the familiar corridors of the academy. She slumped her shoulder in relief.

There was commotion in the reception area.

As they inched closer to the source of noise, the deep blurry syllables sharpened into harsh, loud commands laced with a thick Scottish accent. 

“...serial numbers? Or names or something? Anyway ‘doesn’t matter now, it’s over. Now get on your knees,” His voice was cold and steely. “Get on your knees, now!”

_Their clones are there. Right across the reception area._

Kyra steeled herself as she rounded the corner. There was a fumbling rush as the clones kneeled. 

She locked eyes with her own clone. 

She looked everything like her, but nothing like her. They looked horrifyingly identical to the fine details, but clone Kyra has stone cold eyes, glittering maliciously, that burnt into hers, and the aura of greed and greyness that made her skin crawl.   
  
“Keep moving,” the woman’s confident voice rang out again. Kyra wanted to look away, but her eyes remained staring in the same position. It never really occurred to her how easily she could be replaced, how people around her wouldn’t even spare a second glance to wonder if they’re looking into the eyes of the same person before they take over the world.

Eyes that bored into hers, they looked majestically similar to hers, would have fooled any retinal scans, too. But it lacked warmth, it lacked humaneness. 

Eyes tell a lot, but all Kyra could see in those eyes was raw anger.

It wasn't until clone Kyra looked down she could feel her breath again. She scanned the other clones. It was impressive, yet terrifying how close Grief has gotten to succeeding.  
  
It sent a chilling shiver down her spine. Clones that would replace them, take over their life in silence, and by the time people know about it, everyone around them would be ‘taken care’ of.

She felt an arm softly rubbing her shoulder. It was Laura. She herself was also precarious. She took her hand in, cradling in her palms. It felt nice.  
  
_And gave her a little flutter in the heart and butterflies in her stomach but she forcefully shoved those feelings deep deep down._

The group walked away from the clones and the building. Casting a faint glance to Laura, they walked out of the building, briskly. 

It was snowing outside as they walked towards the chopper. She blew out puffs of breath into the freezing air. The wind was roaring and Kyra wrapped her coat a little tighter around herself.

It was a while until Alex stepped onto the fuselage, wrapped in a space blanket. His hair was matted in blood. He looked tired.

James was the first one to wrap him in a tight hug, letting out an aspirated sigh.

“Alex! Mate you’re alright!” He said in between breaths, closing his eyes. The group joined in the hug, putting their arms around each other.

The chopper launched itself to the air.

There was an inbound storm. But despite the weltering earth and malevolent alps, they were safe. The helicopter seats are long abandoned and they’re cuddling together, finally not in fear, but in relief and comfort.

_They’re safe._

⚢

It has been an hour before the chopper touched the ground again at the point of collection. They’ve all been debriefed, and ready to be collected. 

To Kyra’s utmost surprise, it was Laura who hugged her. They locked eyes for a brief second. Laura has eyes that look like the void lives in it, embellished with faint brown hues swirling and majestic gold flecks. 

They were perplexing, and they were the most beautiful thing Kyra has seen.

“Here’s my number...if you ever need it,” Laura smiled, ”don’t hesitate to call,”

“Thank you,” Kyra replied, dipping her head with a faint laugh, “see you around, maybe?”

Her hands reached up to fix her hair. “Not in these circumstances, hopefully....but yea, see you around.”

Then they parted, eyes still trailing each other’s back.

Kyra was taken to a safe house separately, by two faceless agents that wore cliche black suits and spoke the bare minimum. She has a crippling feeling that something has happened. Something bad.

⚢

It wasn’t until she ran a nearby park she felt as if she could breathe again. She has stolen the card from the agent that introduced himself as Crawly, or _temporarily misappropriated_ , as she liked to put it, then left the safe house. 

Her parents are dead. Crawley repeatedly told her it wasn’t her fault, but the more she thought about it, every link pointed back to her. 

It was too much of a coincidence. Her parents are killed, because she tried to escape.

_Her fault._

There was a hauntingly dolorous feeling in her chest, the weight pressing against her heart. 

But now not only does she have to deal with the crushing feeling of grief, she has nowhere else to go.   
  
And night is coming.

She contemplated calling Laura. Sure, she has her number, but she was sure the mi6 agents are all ears the second she dials out. 

She was sure that was all for their safety, but Kyra couldn’t help but let out an irritated huff. If she was to let them listen to their conversation, she would perhaps prefer walking back to the safe house itself.

She needed an address. 

⚢

_Oh this is so stupid_ , she thought as she tapped her fingers against the library table in an aperiodic rhythm, waiting for the old computer to load. _Because of everyone’s address she just has to find Laura’s._

To be fair, Laura’s house was the closest besides Alex. But walking into Alex’s house would have been the same as, once again, walking back to the safe house. Without a doubt, Alex’s house was fully bugged.

The computer page loaded until jumble of black lines formed letters. She was on the deep web, where hundreds and millions of celebrities' and rich people’s private info are stored. Laura’s family was no exception.

She copied the address onto her phone. Her job here was done.

  
⚢

She propped her leg on the seat in front of her on a bus, leaning her head against the cool window. She got on the bus an hour ago, and it shouldn’t be long until she reaches the countryside, where Laura lives. 

Laura doesn’t even live in England. She lives in Northern Spain; and Kyra, with her amazing hacking skills, has gotten a ticket easily.

She has called ahead in the Bilbao airport, where the british government would not be able to track. Laura has agreed to let her stay.

Hearing her voice on the phone has been a comfort. She has agreed without thoughts, perhaps a bit surprised, but she has shown nothing but kindness and understanding to her.

And she sounded nothing like the front she put up in front of the bastards in Point Blanc. She was soft and sweet and empathetic. Kyra liked it.

The sky was a beautiful swirl of abendrotes, reflecting faint sunlight into her brown eyes. They have planned to meet at the bus station. Kyra glanced at her watch. The bus stop should be minutes away. She wiggled slightly in her seat in excitement.

A person was standing in the distance, blond hair wafting with the wind.

_Laura._

The bus came to a halt.   
  
Even the air around them seemed to resist against the current. Laura’s curly hair was a rumpled, golden mess. She was wearing a loose piece of pale yellow overall, silhouetted against the warm sunlight behind her.

Kyra shyly advanced towards Laura, but Laura flung herself towards Kyra.

They collided. Laura smelt of honey and flower field. They wrapped themselves around each other tightly, eyes closing. Kyra casted a tiny glance amidst their hug. Her face was full of soft and kind loving things. She liked her face, the way it was shaped, how fucking soft her lips were, how freckles dampened across her face.

There was a warmth that chased away the chill that laid there for years. Kyra was safe. In fact, she felt free, content...euphoric.

Kyra smiled.

Maybe, for once, things were turning out fine.

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! i finally gathered my ass and wrote my first fanfic, enjoy!!  
> honestly, i just love kyra, that badass mf owns my whole heart, and she's everything i strive to be.   
> also, constructive criticism is always welcomed, thanku!!<3
> 
> -el
> 
> [also this is heavily inspired by aurum18's 'a glittering mist', so thank you, alice, for the motivation for me to write my first fanfic ilyy]


End file.
